Tears

I saw the old woman crying. I thought she was crying for herself.

Sheba was counselling three ladies in her cabin. The old lady had HIV and had lost her husband over a year ago.

Later Sheba told me that Mrs. Nalli was crying for her daughter Monika. Monika married some years ago and wanted to become a police woman. She was preparing for the entrance exam and it looked likely that she would be selected. She then became pregnant.

Her in-laws wanted her to get the job and were afraid that the child would mean that Monika would not get selected. They forced her to have an abortion.

Two years have gone by. Over the time the in-laws have shifted their demands. Now they want a child. And Monika is not conceiving. The abortion method used was one that should never have been used for a first pregnancy. She is trying to use fertility treatment. As it is so crudely put by so many: "there is no 'issue' so far."

Among the issues and the tissues that were ripped are the fragments of lives. I saw the three women walking on the road later. The old lady and her two daughters. Who can tell from the outside, from seeing people on the street, what goes on within?

What words to say for the pain that marks our broken lives? Sheba held the hands of the broken mother and her broken daughter. Listened. Provided a small safe place for these women express their grief. Looked into the Word with them. Prayed. Monika will be coming back each week now.

No magic buttons. No simple solutions to make everything peachy-keen. But some steps on a road to healing.